


You're a Coward, and that's Okay

by Magikkittenz29



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Karlnapity, Blood and Injury, Crying, Gen, Other, Panic Attacks, Permanent Injury, The Inherent Comfort of Shared Trauma, Trauma, ao3 please give me philza minecraft character tag, i just want them to be friends ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29200572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magikkittenz29/pseuds/Magikkittenz29
Summary: He didn't look up at his attacker, he threw he hands up over his eyes instead, cowering again - that's all he did, wasn't it? This was a stupid idea, what was he thinking? And now he'd die, with his stupid decision, just like the last time.But now he would lose everything.----------I wanted to write Techno and Quackity interacting, and this happenedQuackity's been through quite a lot, so has Techno
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity/Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 12
Kudos: 177





	1. Chapter 1

Quackity fell onto his elbows, scrambling backwards as best he could. The snow seeped into his jacket and halted his movements but he continued pushing away from the terror in front of him.

He mistepped, falling back with a yelp. His permanently damaged wings flapped frantically, desperately trying to take to the air despite the obvious injury that befelled them.

All the air was shoved from his lungs when a foot came down onto his chest, pushing against his ribcage hard enough that Quackity felt his lungs wheezing for a breath.

He didn't look up at his attacker, he threw his hands up over his eyes instead, cowering again - that's all he did, wasn't it? This was a stupid idea, what was he thinking? And now he'd die, with his stupid decision, just like the last time.

But now he would lose everything.

He closed his eyes, tears beginning to stream out of his eyes and down beside his head into the snow. The tense pressure against his chest grew tighter and tighter and heavier and heavier. His arms wanted to claw at the offending foot - he needed _air_ , but he couldn't bring himself to move, he stayed stock still, almost gasping in his position. He waited for the telltale feeling of the sword's cold blade pressing into his abdomen - the hot flare of pain, then the nothingness and relief that came afterwards - but he felt nothing.

In fact, he felt the weight on his chest lessened, before leaving completely.

Everything rushed back to him all at once and he choked a bit, coughing as the cold air burned his throat.

There was a soft shuffling before a breath was exhaled.

"Quackity."

The man aforementioned shivered, slowly moving his hands back down to his sides; instinctively, his wings covered him as best as he could.

"Techno," he responded with a hoarse whisper, a barely audible breath of a name.

Quackity watched as his attacker slowly lowered himself down to face him, his expression unreadable.

Quackity flinched away, legs once again scrambling away once more.

"Stay away," he said, voice stammering. There was nothing he could do - he had no weapons, no armor, if he wasn't careful he'd be at the edge of death again. At the mere thought, breaths started coming out more shallowly.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Techno said, almost as if he just decided this a few moments ago. He held a hooved-hand out.

Quackity eyed it and did not take it.

Techno sighed and retracted his hand back. "You know, Quackity, I don't know why you thought it'd be a good idea to come here, but I know _why_ you're here."

Carefully, Quackity looked right at him, his eyes looking over the blank expression in front of him - except this time, it wasn't blank, the expression on Techno's face couldn't be clearer; 

it was pity.

"You're scared," Techno said quietly.

Quackity didn't have the heart to tell him otherwise - was he _wrong_? He wasn't. At this realization, his wings relaxed slightly, falling beside himself in a limp pile of dirty straw feathers.

He didn't even notice he was crying until a stray droplet hit his hand, the action nearly giving him a heart attack.

He sniffled and brought his beanie over his eyes, trying to stop himself from looking so pathetic, but it just made him cry harder.

He sobbed into his arms, drawing his knees up to his chest, shrinking in on himself. He cried for his friends, he cried for the people he lost, he cried for his mistakes, he cried for all the bullshit he'd been put through.

And it wasn't pretty - yet Techno stuck around.

At one point, the pig draped his cloak over Quackity's shoulders, leaving the slightest bit of a comforting shrug before his hand drew back to his side.

"It's getting dark," he remarked casually, as if they were having some coffee outing.

Quackity sniffled, feeling gross, tired, and endlessly stressed. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, not helping his current state.

"We should head in," Techno said, though he might as well have been talking to the air.

He rested his hand on Quackity's shoulder, and Quackity slowly pushed himself up, his legs numb and shaky.

Techno offered support - somewhat reluctantly most likely, considering how disheveled and covered in snot Quackity was - but the offer was declined. Tired as he was, he was still a stubborn asshole. He made it back to the cabin Techno resided in without any help, standing idly by the door. It was nice and warm - much more lively than it was outside.

Techno led him to the upstairs, having him sit on top of a chest. He walked off and grabbed a few things to warm Quackity up, as well as clean him off; they were accepted without complaint.

When Quackity was left to himself in the large and cozily cluttered room, he curled up on top of the chest. The cloak was still on him, and he didn't mind. He wrapped himself in it and lay down on his side. He wondered why Techno said the things he did, and why he was _right_.

It made him want to punch that stupid snout off his face, maybe take a tusk or two. But right now, he simply focused on resting, too fatigued and empty to urge himself to do anything.

He closed his eyes, and the last thing he saw was the lights turning off in the room, and the door closing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here, why don’t you help me with a few things,” he asked, not sticking around long enough to hear an answer. He headed over to a large building beside the house, Quackity following (begrudgingly) once he headed in.

It was dark, dark all around - Quackity was sure he wasn’t in Techno’s house anymore. He turned and stumbled around, the darkness almost suffocating with its inky tendrils and thick, consuming limbs. He whipped his head around, trying to find an outing somewhere,  _ anywhere _ , but the further he pushed, the colder it felt, the faster the air escaped his lungs. He scrambled around, his wings flapping frantically; maybe he could fly out of here, out of this miserable, terrifying place.

But the next thing he knew, he was held down.

Whatever it was, it pinned his wings to the murky pool of night that couldn’t have been a ground and it kept him secured, slowly - but surely - dragging him down.

Quackity struggled, the thick blanket of ooze swallowing each breath he took, snatched away each gasp for air and replaced it with dark tar. He sputtered, barely having the strength nor the capacity to cry out anymore.

He continued his desperate dance of thrashing and grasping, his fingernails scraping through anything he could feel, but his hands felt all but nothing and he let out one more muffled shout, before he was enveloped, before red devoured his vision.. 

When Quackity opened his eyes again it was bright, so much brighter than before. 

He sat up with a gasp, his arms and wings shaking wildly. He fumbled and fell to the floor with a yelp, the cape tangled around his legs not helping with his struggles.

He felt dizzy as the air returned to his lungs and his heart beat faster to accommodate the rapid movement he made quite frantically just before being released from his comatose. He looked down to stop the spiraling ceilings in his vision and didn’t even notice the figure creeping up behind him.

Quackity felt a pressure at his shoulder and nearly screamed, jolting forwards and slamming his elbow into the ground. He turned around to find a rather alarmed Technoblade, holding his arms up in defense. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured, sounding out of his element. He fretted for a bit before trotting over to a chest. After a few moments of trifling through it he resurfaced with two golden apples.

As gently as he could he rolled it over to Quackity.

“Here, eat something, you’re probably hungry,” he said.

A little confused and wildly hungry, Quackity grabbed the two apples, consuming them as quickly as he could, wiping his mouth with the corner of his sleeve once he was finished.

“Thank you,” he croaked, to which Techno snorted in response. He turned back towards the ladder and climbed down, leaving Quackity alone once more.

Why was he here again?

He kept the cloak on his shoulders close to him, tucking it tighter around his figure warily. He was a bit surprised Technoblade hadn’t just demanded Quackity handed it back - or simply just yanked it away from him - but he wasn’t complaining.

He looked around at his surroundings with vague interest, eventually finding the strength in his legs to stand up. Maybe he should leave, Technoblade wasn’t the most stable person, and neither was Quackity - this morning could turn out quite badly after the slightest aggravation, and Quackity was in no shape to handle anything.

Untangling the cape from his grasp, Quackity made it onto shaky feet, stumbling over to the door. He opened it loudly, heading out into the snow, his wings instinctively shielding himself from the biting cold. He hugged himself as he walked down the steps, silently regretting leaving the cloak.

The area seemed a lot less harsh than it did yesterday; where Quackity had been running on adrenaline, fear, and rage, he was now docile, calm, tired. While still cold, the snow didn’t seem as harsh as it was the other day, the house wasn’t a looming spire promising terrible, subsequent demise.

It was a normal house, a normal home.

_ But the resident still killed people _ , he reminded himself, his hand tightening around his arm.

“Admiring my build?” a voice came from his left.

Quackity screamed and cursed, jumping. He heard a snort of contempt then looked up, finding Techno looking down at him with a rather irritated expression. “You’re easily scared aren’t you?”

A moment of sputtering from Quackity’s end and he gathered his wits. “I’m  _ not _ thank you very much.”

Techno raised his eyebrow with a very unconvinced expression, giving another snort. “Here, why don’t you help me with a few things,” he asked, not sticking around long enough to hear an answer. He headed over to a large building beside the house, Quackity following (begrudgingly) once he headed in.

He balked when he saw the large amount of canines surrounding the interior of the room, all looking up at their master eagerly, yipping happily. Quackity shuddered, remembering the hound army and kept close to the wall near the door, ignoring the curious stares of the nearby dogs.

“I’m going to name a few of them, so if you could help me attach their name tags to their collars that would be great,” he hummed. Quackity watched as Techno secured a few tags onto some of the dogs’ collars, rubbing their heads affectionately before standing back up. “I’m going to get more, you stay here,” he said and promptly left, leaving Quackity without any further instructions.

The man looked around, not sure where to go - if he  _ could _ go anywhere. He stayed in his corner, pressing closer to the wall before he sunk down, minding his wings as he tried to get comfortable in his little area.

A hound near him turned their head towards him, looking at him with a keen gaze. He shrunk away a bit, giving an awkward wave.

The dog bumped their head into his open palm, tail wagging happily.

Quackity tensed, but allowed himself to give a soft pat on the animal’s head, eventually continuing the motion. It was calming as he ran his fingers through the soft fur of this rather affectionate creature. He focused on the relaxing minstrations and closed his eyes, letting the pup climb into his lap and enjoy the pets.

Techno came back a while later, holding more than a few tags in his hands. “I have names,” he said, taking little time to acknowledge the friendly dog all but draping themselves onto Quackity’s person.

There was a loud clatter of name tags colliding as Techno dropped the tags onto the ground, grabbing a sizable amount before heading deeper into the building, fixing each dog with a new name.

Quackity gently pushed the pupper on him off and crawled over to the pile, rummaging through it; he found a tag that read ‘Nugget’. Stifling a laugh, he promptly snatched it up and put it on the nice mutt’s collar. “Hey Nugget.”

Newly named, Nugget wagged their tail, giving a small woof of what Quackity decided to read as appreciation. He gave them one last pat before helping Techno with the task of naming, grabbing tags and pinning them to any dog he could see.

It took a lot longer than he had expected. He sat down on the ground, laying down with a groan once he finished. Techno looked at him with an eye-roll, dusting off his snow-coated breeches. “If you’re going to stay in here, don’t let them out,” he instructed, fixing the collar of his cape. With that, he strolled out, closing the door behind him with a pointed ‘snap’.

Quackity waited a few moments before flipping off the direction Techno had left, returning his hand quickly back to his side lest the other saw (there was no way Quackity would come back from that slip-up).

Nugget gave his cheek a questioning lick and laid down beside him, resting their head on his cheek.

Despite the smell of wolf and the snow slowly seeping into his jacket he dozed, hugging the dog close. After this, he’d leave.

After this nap.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Great, it was nighttime, and he was stuck in the dog house.
> 
> Fan-fucking-tastic.

It was a lot colder when Quackity awoke.

He shivered, curling up a bit, then paused. Suddenly remembering the furry companion curled up beside him, he ceased his movement, gently scooting away from Nugget as to not awaken them.

Once a safe distance away, he sat up, then stood up, heading over to the door. He nearly shrieked when the below freezing temperature hit his body, cursing vehemently as he closed the door behind him, shivering wildly. 

Great, it was nighttime, and he was stuck in the dog house.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Not wanting to risk the danger of the very real possibility of hypothermia, Quackity moved further into the doghouse, trying to scrounge up what heat he could without disturbing the dogs too much.

He draped what little of his wing he had left over his exposed side and curled back up, shuddering. After a few minutes had passed, he opened his eyes again, turning over - and over - and over.

“Fucking goddammit,” he hissed to himself. He blinked, his eyes growing dry from the frosty air. He couldn’t sleep and he sure as hell wasn’t going to lie here pondering all his poor life decisions in this dog house. He slowly got up and headed back to the door, taking in a deep breath; if he made a break for it to the cabin, maybe he’d make it before freezing all of his fingers and his face.

He bounced a bit, shaking away any nerves and slowly trying to heat up his body temperature. He muttered soft words of encouragement to himself, closing his eyes and focusing.

Then, he lept, bolting out the door with as much speed as he could muster.

And he ran smack dab into Technoblade.

Before the pain in his nose registered, the below freezing temperature seeped into his wet jacket, making his shiver violently. Not taking notice of the rather startled anarchist, he grabbed at the soft material of Techno’s cloak - seeming to have been returned from the floor to his shoulders - and wrapped it around himself, sandwiching him between the soft fabric and Technoblade.

If not for the horrible feeling of his face feeling like it was being burnt off, Quackity would have cringed at the awkward position, but he was _not_ going to leave this warm embrace anytime soon.

There was a bit of shifting once Techno’s initial shock wore off. He looked around, seeming at a loss for what to do with himself, before eventually deciding with a brisk nudge. Quackity obliged slowly, walking in the direction Techno was pushing him towards, keeping the cape tightly sealed as he did so.

Every so often they would stumble - Quackity would get caught off balance as he walked backwards and Techno would step on his feet with painful accuracy - but the two eventually made it back into the house.

Quackity sighed with relief as the feeling in his limbs slowly came back. He blinked a bit so his eyes got used to the sudden brightness surrounding him, and he quite abruptly remembered his current position.

He pushed himself away from Technoblade violently enough it put both of them off-kelter, Techno wobbling a bit to regain his balance.

“I can’t believe you _left_ me in that dog house!” Quackity started off with, which was not the _best_ thing to shout at the resident giving him shelter from a storm.

He received a long, exaggerated eye roll and a sigh. “You fell asleep in there, how was _I_ supposed to know you were going to nap all day?”

“You could have woken me up!”

“No I couldn’t!”

Quackity faltered, thinking a bit. Well, he was right, he’d be super pissed if someone woke him up from his nap. “Well- still!” he countered back lamely.

Techno gave a chuff and started for the ladder, but not before -

_Achoo!_

Quackity blinked, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He looked over at Technoblade as if _daring_ him to say something, then quickly turned his head, sneezing again into his elbow.

“Great, you’re _sick_ ,” Techno muttered, climbing up the ladder. He continued murmuring to himself, shaking his head every so often, almost like he was having an imaginary argument; weird.

Quackity followed him up, planning to rummage through Techno’s stash for a hefty supply of food - he hadn’t eaten since this morning - but he was quickly grabbed and sat down on a chest.

“What the hell?” he protested, trying to stray away from the hold but Techno’s response was to hold on tighter, a little perturbed by the constant struggle.

Suddenly, Quackity stopped, his movements almost ceasing completely, he stared blankly at the floor, his breathing slowly picking up. The room felt like it was closing in on him - slowly pressing up against his sides. He blanched, remembering the dark area of the Final Control Room, remembering the threats he spewed - how they were gibberish to his ears now - remembering the threats, remembering the raising of weapons,

remembering Techno's pickaxe slicing through his face.

“Let go,” he mumbled, still not making an effort to move. “ _Let. Go._ ”

Techno did so quickly and Quackity felt as if the world flooded back into him - that he was no longer trapped in a chamber of silence and stillness and static.

He coughed a bit, which started a series of wheezing fits. Once it died down Techno handed him the potion Quackity didn’t even see he was brewing, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Faster than he thought his reflexes could be, Quackity slapped the affronting limb away, his eyes wide; he felt Techno’s gaze wash over his face then trail down the marks of his scar. His expression was unreadable.

Quackity took the potion and downed it without a word.

The two didn’t say anything else for the rest of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you - have a nightmare?” he asked, not unkindly.
> 
> Like hell Quackity was going to say anything - in his defense, he didn’t think he could even if he wanted to - but Technoblade seemed insistent on an answer so Quackity gave the briefest of nods, taking in a sharp breath in an attempt to collect himself.

Quackity spent a majority of the night staring out the window, watching the snow fall with mild interest. Sometimes he was tempted to reach through and touch the flakes falling by the window, but was promptly reminded that glass was _solid;_ it wasn’t _his_ fault glass was so transparent.

He tapped the cold glass every now and then, reminding himself that it wasn’t solid air and focused on his thoughts raptly. He tried to think about Karl and Sapnap - he really should have headed back when he could, they would be worried now - but his thoughts trailed over to the small breakdown he had while Techno was present, his hand pressing tightly enough to bruise his skin. Automatically, his eyes shot down to his forearm and he rolled his sleeve back. He gasped a bit, seeing blood streaming down his forearm. He blinked, and it was gone. 

Trembling, he checked his arm, turning it around and making sure he was okay. His arm was fine, there weren’t even bruises present, and then did he allow himself to relax. He groaned and pressed his forehead to the window pane, exhaling shakily as he draped his hands over his head.

Weak. 

He was weak. 

His limp fingers tightened around his beanie and he gripped his head, trying to calm himself down. This wasn’t his fault, this wasn’t his fault - this was Schlatt’s fault, Techno’s fault, _Dream’s_ fault. He nodded to himself, trying to convince the reflection staring back at him in the mirror-

But the reflection wasn’t Quackity anymore.

He saw a dark shape, indiscernible in its form, staring back at him with wide, red eyes.

He couldn’t move, staying firmly planted in his seat as the murky figure seemed to slowly reach towards him, its jaw unhinging too widely, a low hissing erupting from its mouth.

Only when Quackity felt a drop of inky sludge burn into his face did he leap back, falling to the floor with a loud ‘thump’. He cried out as the creature approached menacingly, its sharp, dripping claws getting closer and closer to his face.

He continued to scramble backwards, only for a tendril to pin him down. He struggled, breaths coming out in panicked gasps and chokes. 

A clawed hand grasped his face, digging its claw into his face. Quackity screamed, tears bleeding from his eyes. The claw was dragged from his lower eyelid to the bottom of his chin, hitting every nerve on the way down.

Quackity howled, his eyes wide and his vision blurry. He couldn’t feel anything but _pain_. The tendrils pinning him down spread, becoming a dense quicksand around his body. It surrounded him, suffocating him and crushing every breath he took. He heard the snapping of ribs and the cracking of bones as he wheezed, choking on his sobs as the punishing pressure of the claw continued to dig deeper into his face. He tasted his blood in his mouth, coughing with every sharp squeeze.

Another clawed hand came up to his throat, constricting its grip. He could feel the claws digging into the soft skin of his neck, threatening to push in. Quackity looked up, his vision filling with bright spots and darkness creepy up the sides. He stopped struggling, gurgling in his position. With one violent rip, the claws were torn from his face.

Quackity launched himself out of the bed, shouting. He panted, then scrambled to find a mirror, heading to the window. He looked at his reflection, taking in deep gulps of breath as his fingers traced the healed scars left by an unfortunate encounter with a pickaxe. He patted his face a couple of times to convince himself of what he was seeing and then slumped to the ground, clutching his wrist tightly.

“Quackity?” came a voice.

Technoblade came into the room, blinking a bit at the man hiding in the corner of the wall. He huffed a bit and knelt down as he approached the trembling figure, getting down to eye level with him.

“Did you - have a nightmare?” he asked, not unkindly.

Like hell Quackity was going to say anything - in his defense, he didn’t think he _could_ even if he wanted to - but Technoblade seemed insistent on an answer so Quackity gave the briefest of nods, taking in a sharp breath in an attempt to collect himself.

Techno gave him a little ear flick, then looked thoughtfully at the ceiling.

“Give me a second,” he said quietly and slowly rose back up, climbing down the ladder and disappearing. Quackity watched him go, slowly uncurling his posture. He slowly but surely relaxed his muscles, trying those breathing exercises Karl and Sapnap always made him practice.

He abruptly stopped when Techno resurfaced from the ladder hole, seeming to climb back up with some difficulty. 

Quackity’s eyes widened when he saw a bundle of fur tucked into Techno’s arms, the gray mass wriggling and yipping softly. The hound turned to Quackity, then started wriggling ten times more vigorously, leaping from Techno’s arms the minute the piglin stepped onto the floor. They bolted over towards Quackity, running head first into his chest.

He let out a little ‘oomph’ and looked down at the pup, a small smile stretching his face. “Hey Nugget,” he said hoarsely, petting their head.

Nugget barked happily and nuzzled his face, turning rapidly in his lap, their wagging tail hitting his arm. He laughed softly as the dog licked his face, nosing at him affectionately.

“Thank you,” he said, laughing as he received more wet kisses in return. He buried his face in the fur, his hands gently coursing through the soft floomf. He inhaled and felt like he could _breathe_ again, focusing on the happy, loving animal in front of him. The warmth was welcome, the contact was welcome, Nugget was welcome.

He resurfaced from where he was buried in the dog, looking up to see Techno still present in the room. Quackity stilled a bit, sitting a little straighter, but he was stopped by a small little shake of the head.

“Just, take it easy,” Techno got out, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. “Don’t wander off either,” he instructed, then headed back down.

Quackity blinked a couple of times, then slowly lay down, groaning as he looked up at the ceiling. Nugget flopped down beside him, wriggling a bit to get into the right position as they splayed their legs over Quackity’s torso.

  
Perhaps he _should_ take it easy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever was left of the Technoblade that helped with his night terrors, helped feed him, shelter him, wasn’t present - not anymore. With one swift motion, Quackity was thrown against the wall, his wing hitting the partition with a sick ‘crack’.

It's been three days since Quakcity’s little incident, and he wasn’t feeling any better.

The nightmares hadn’t stopped coming (not that he expected them to, they always resurfaced whenever Karl and Sapnap left to do business or whenever he saw anything remotely connected to his deaths whatsoever) and Quackity was feeling drained.

Techno didn’t let people stay on his property for free, and Quackity, being fresh out of anything valuable, had to resort to manual labor, helping Technoblade around his home with chores, menial tasks, etc.

Perhaps there was more attentiveness to Techno than Quackity had first thought - today the piglin gave him a break, letting him crash on the makeshift bed they had set up. Nugget had come and joined him, the pup rarely leaving his side since the  _ incident _ . Not that Quackity minded at all, he quite enjoyed company that wasn’t limited to just Technoblade.

He laid down on the bed, hitting the cushions with a soft noise. He brought his arms behind his head and leaned back, closing his eyes and tucking himself in for a well deserved nap. Nugget crawled up beside him and curled up next to his side, falling asleep almost immediately. Quackity allowed himself a quick pet before settling in and closing his eyes.

Then, the door slammed open, hitting the wall with enough force that Quackity jolted at the action. He jumped, sitting up.

Looming at the front of the hallway was Technoblade, covered in blood which emitted steam all around him in the snow. It soaked through his clothes, dripping messily onto the floor with wet ‘plops’, a puddle already forming beneath him. He was breathing heavily, his eyes a shade Quackity had only seen once before-

before he died the second time.

He didn’t dare say a thing, stilling while simultaneously trying to bury himself into the bed, trying to be as obscure as possible. He inched as slowly as could, but the bed creaked under his weight traitorously.

Techno’s head snapped over to him, pinning him down with those dark, red eyes. He started over towards him, his bloodied pickaxe dragging across the floor with a steady ‘thump, thump’ as it caught on the floorboards. He stopped a few inches away from Quackity’s person, looking down at him with an unreadable expression and ill intent.

A sharp yapping broke the tense silence and Quackity turned his attention to his side, watching as Nugget barked fiercely at the perpetrator, growling up at the piglin without any fear.

Until Techno gave a sharp look at the dog; Nugget silenced quickly, whining softly, as if the gaze held them in place, forbidding them to so much as move.

Using his offhand, Technoblade quickly grabbed Quackity’s shirt, hand tightening against the fabric. He pulled the frightened victim closer, low growling heard underneath his breath. Quackity brought his hands up to the arm, struggling against the grip in a last resort attempt. “Stop it,” he gasped out, his eyes darting frantically to the pickaxe still on the floor. “Snap out of it.”

Whatever was left of the Technoblade that helped with his night terrors, helped feed him, shelter him, wasn’t present - not anymore. With one swift motion, Quackity was thrown against the wall, his wing hitting the partition with a sick ‘crack’. More whines from Nugget emitted, but Quackity couldn’t hear anything over the blood roaring into his ears and his heart beating furiously in his throat. He turned and quickly rolled to the side, the ground beside him splintering under the swing of the pickaxe. He whimpered, realizing how he just barely avoided a skewer through the chest. 

Not one word left Techno’s mouth, just determined and noncommittal grunts as he got closer. He seemed to be getting agitated, the swings less precise and the pace more desperate. He let out a loud bellow, backing Quackity into the wall. The man winced, trying to ignore how the pressure pinned his broken wing and made it hurt all the more so.

“Techno, please, listen to me, Techno I kno-”

He gave a choked shout as the head of the pick was driven right under his chin, effectively cutting off his senseless blathering and his airways. Quackity’s nails scraped at the netherite, trying to pry the weapon away as he floundered, air escaping him.

“Techno,” he rasped, struggling to breathe. “ _ Stop _ ...”

The pressure did not lessen and the insistent hand scratching at the hilt of the pick weakened, slowly falling to Quackity’s side. He grew limp, his breaths shaking his whole body. The room was vibrating, his vision was spotty, and Techno was still staring at him with determination, as if the thought of stopping was treasonous. Quackity surrendered quietly, hacking dryly as the wetted metal of the netherite dug him his grave.

And just when the light faded from his field of vision, the tight pressure around his neck was released. Quackity coughed, taking in as much air as he could. As he doubled over, hunching over as he tried to breathe through the sickly smell of blood and his own bile building up in his throat. He looked up to see what his savior was and couldn’t believe what he was witnessing.

Philza Minecraft himself.

He stood behind Technoblade, one hand under the piglin’s head, keeping it upturned while the other hand was pressed sharply into his chest. He looked almost stern, as if Techno were nothing more than a bad pet, caught doing some misdemeanor. 

Quackity watched in slight awe as Phil leaned over and whispered something into Techno’s ear, his posture tense. After a few moments, the once murderous figure slumped, taking shaky breaths. Phil’s authoritative and stiff posture relaxed into something more nurturing as he talked quietly to the seemingly distressed Techno in his arms. There were a few more hushed words that were exchanged before the two turned to Quackity.

“Oh gods,” Techno said, seeming horrified. He hid his now brown, dark eyes and headed out of the room as quickly as he could, a stark contrast to when he entered, terrifying and threatening..

Phil watched as his friend exited the room, his shoulders slumping alongside a tired sigh. He looked back down at Quackity, his face resigned once more. He held a hand out and Quackity tentatively took it, pulling himself up and following wherever Philza was leading him.

They ended up in the storage room, Phil dressing the wounds Quackity had obtained from the whole ordeal. He did quite a good job dressing the scratches and the bruises - even making a splint for his wing - but he couldn’t erase or remedy the effects that were made on his emotional stability.

Quackity stood, curling up on himself as Phil stared outside, standing at the doorway. 

“What are you doing here?” came Phil’s voice, steady and calm.

There was no good answer to that question, not for Quackity. He shifted and rubbed his arm.

“I came to look for what I was missing,” he answered eventually. It wasn’t a lie.

Phil turned to face him. “You should leave.”

Quackity knew that, but for some reason, he found himself sticking around. It wasn’t as if he got what he came for yet, perhaps that’s what kept him close by. Some part of him believed that Techno could give him what he was trying to find, and yet here he was, still as lost, broken, and afraid as he was the first day (it was a miracle he was still alive).

“I can’t,” Quackity heard himself say, looking at the ground. Maybe he was a pretentious prick, but he didn’t come here to go home empty-handed, damaged or otherwise. Perhaps it was the words that were uttered to him on the first day, or maybe it was the way Techno offered him basic human decency, or gave him something to  _ do _ with himself - or hell, gave him a place to  _ stay _ . Either way, Quackity didn’t think whatever  _ this  _ was, was over. Techno owed him something, and perhaps, Quackity owed him something too, even if he didn’t like to think about it.

“You’re going about this the wrong way,” Phil had said, his attention back towards the scenery of the setting sun. “You’re going to hurt yourselves.”

Quackity took in a shaky breath. 

“Well they do say ‘keep your enemies closer’, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little bit unhappy with how this turned out, but what can I do

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated


End file.
